


ethereal red riding hood

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), allusions to Little Red Riding Hood, also they're so sweet and in love, gingerhaole DTIYS, they're married harold, this was very fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: is this a little red riding hood AU? maybe! there's certainly a red hood and definitely a scheming creature of the night
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	ethereal red riding hood

**Author's Note:**

> this is written for gingerhaole's halloween DTIYS 2020! the art is so good and so i just had to write something, since i can't draw for shit check them out at @/gingerhaole on insta

Aziraphale huffed. 

This huff was the result of a few things. One, he was getting a bit chilled and while he had on a beautiful red cloak, it wasn’t exactly the warmest piece of outerwear he owned. Two, he was beginning to feel a little peckish and there wasn’t a patisserie in sight. Shame, that is. 

He watched as the puff of air floated in front of his face and disappeared into the dark night. 

It was getting quite cold, even for October in England. He took note of the eerie silence, broken only by the occasional soft rustle of the trees or small creatures scurrying across the path. He looked down at his boots as they crunched through piles of leaves. The path practically glowed with yellows and oranges. 

Aziraphale smiled. 

He always liked fall, it was a good season. The weather was turning cooler, allowing him to don his many layers without the dreaded sheen of sweat developing in less than chaste areas of the body*. It was a season for warm ciders and apple crisps and pumpkin muffins and all sorts of other autumnal delights. 

*You might be thinking to yourself “Say, Aziraphale, aren’t you an Angel of the Lord? Why do you sweat? Why not just make yourself not sweat?” To which said Angel of the Lord would give you an affronted gasp and say that “I can’t just go around performing frivolous miracles, dear child.” He would then blow lightly on his mug of tea, kettle nowhere in sight. 

Now, however, he was reminded of the other aspect of fall - Halloween. Ghouls and ghosts and monsters and demons. A wolf howled in the distance. 

“Good Lord,” Aziraphale tucked the wicker basket hanging from the crook of his elbow in just a little bit tighter. “That won’t do.” 

As Aziraphale continued down the path, he heard a loud rustle in the bushes just off the trail. 

Decidedly ignoring it, he began to quicken his pace. He was also attempting valiantly to ignore the distinct feeling of someone watching his back. 

“Hello?” he called out, turning around. 

No answer. 

Just as he turned back to continue down the trail, he found a tall, dark figure was in his direct path. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped and nearly dropped his basket. “Oh my, you frightened me.” 

The figure stepped back some, revealing shining yellow eyes, striking red hair popping out from under a skinned wolf pelt, and a dark grey tail hanging loosely out of a pair of dark pants. 

“Hello,” the figure started, voice silky smooth. “And what do we have here?” 

The figure gestured to the basket that Aziraphale was holding. 

“Ah, this- yes, these are croissants for me and my husband,” Aziraphale stepped back. 

The figure dragged its eyes up Aziraphale’s form slowly, eyes half-lidded. 

“I don’t see any husband around here,” the figure smiled, showcasing two rows of very sharp, very white teeth. 

Aziraphale gulped loudly. 

“Yes, well, he tends to be a bit late.” 

The figure’s eyes widened. 

“I’m not- I mean,” the figure smoothed its features out, again. “It seems a shame to leave this all to waste.” 

Aziraphale looked down at the basket and then back up to the figure. A breeze blew through the path and knocked the red hood off of Aziraphale’s head, his platinum curls sprung free and a chill ran up his spine. 

“It won’t be a waste, I assure you,” Aziraphale side-stepped the figure. “Though he can be what he likes to call ‘fashionably late,’ I promise you that he will still show up soon. But thank you for the offer. Good night, dear sir.” 

Aziraphale turned to walk past the figure when he found himself suddenly slammed against the trunk of a large oak tree on the side of the trail. He hadn’t been hurt, but he was startled. The basket fell off of his arm and landed in a pile of leaves beside him. The only sound for a moment was the soft thud of the basket landing and the beating of Aziraphale’s heart. 

“Wasn’t really an  _ offer _ ,” the figure sneered. “And don’t thank me. Seeing a little angel like you, all perfect, tidy white outfit and rosy cheeks, out here all by yourself? This is purely selfish, I assure you.” 

The figure’s hand was fisted around Aziraphale’s collar, its other hand blocking Aziraphale’s left exit and resting on the trunk, right next to his head. 

“Oh yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do to me?” Aziraphale asked, a bite of sarcasm woven through his words. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 

The figure laughed darkly and leaned in closer to Aziraphale’s face, eyes flitting down to his lips and back up to his eyes. 

“And  _ you _ have no idea what  _ I’m _ capable of, little angel.” 

The figure licked its lips and began moving in closer, eyes almost closed when- 

_ GGGRRRGGGGL _

“Darling, this is all wonderful and very tantalizing, I assure you, but I really am terribly hungry,” Aziraphale said, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Crowley pulled back and groaned. 

“Ugggggh, angel, I told you to eat a snack before we came!” Crowley threw his hands up and walked back to the path.

Aziraphale giggled and patted Crowley’s shoulder, stroking the fur on his jacket collar. 

“I know, but I was so focused on getting this outfit just right,” Aziraphale gestured to the white and gold jacket hiding underneath the red cloak. “What do you think, by the way? I went through three different kinds of fabric to get it just right.”    
  
Crowley looked Aziraphale up and down, again, this time quicker and with far less sinful intent. 

“Hm, it does look pretty good,” Crowley conceded, uncrossing his arms. “But we were  _ just _ getting to the sexy bit.” 

Aziraphale looped his arm through Crowley’s and began walking them back down the path. 

“Every moment with you is sexy, trust me,” Crowley blushed bright red. “But we are going to be late to Anathema’s Hallows Eve Party.” 

Crowley’s blush lightened to a dusting of pink and he grumbled something that sounded like “damn witch always meddling in my business.” 

They walked in silence for a few moments. The moon was shining brightly and Aziraphale took a moment to study Crowley’s jaw, appreciating (internally) the angles of his chin and the smattering of stubble that came from a few days without shaving*. 

* “But why does he have stubble when he could just miracle it awa-” you begin to ask. I shush you, telling you that sometimes occult and ethereal beings like to play human, and we must simply let them. 

The hunger in Aziraphale’s stomach flipped a switch and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the croissants nestled in the picnic basket. 

“You know, dear, I just checked the time and we are actually a bit early,” Aziraphale said, pointedly not looking at Crowley. “How long would we have to wait until we are fashionably late?” 

Crowley was looking at Aziraphale with wide eyes before a grin began to form. 

“That depends,” Crowley replied, acting nonchalant. “The later we are, the more fashionable it is.” 

Aziraphale snapped and the basket suddenly found itself sitting just outside of Jasmine Cottage, nestled into the grass next to the gate. 

“Well, you do love to be quite fashionable, don’t you?” Aziraphale stopped walking and Crowley turned to fully face him. “Perhaps I could give it a try, as well.” 

Crowley was smiling brightly. 

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Crowley said, sounding way too fond and a little bit exasperated. 

“Yes, but I’m  _ your _ bastard, aren’t I?” Aziraphale replied, looping his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and kissing his nose. “Now, what was this I remember you saying about your capabilities?” 

Crowley swooped in and kissed Aziraphale gently on the lips before scooping him up and lugging the angel over his shoulder. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself, angel.” 

Aziraphale giggled wildly as Crowley began carrying him off the path, again, making sure no one would come by this path for at least the next 20 minutes. 

“Oh my, it seems the big, bad wolf has captured me and rendered me helpless!” Aziraphale said, acting his heart out. 

Now Crowley was giggling as he set Aziraphale down by a small bush. He took a step back and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, eyes twinkling.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” 

“I love you, too, you wily thing.”    
  


***** BONUS**

Anathema was in the kitchen, gathering up the pumpkin cookies to take out to the living room where she could hear Newt nervously telling the Them to leave her various witchcraft books alone. 

“Come ooooon, please,” Adam begged. “If we have real witch’s books with us, it’ll make our costumes way more wicked.” 

Newt glanced over the group of kids, donned in pointy black hats and dark cloaks. 

“I don’t know…” Newt said, nervously looking over the group and trying to assess the likelihood of them reading the books and accidentally summoning some dark spirit. 

“They can use them,” Anathema replied as she carried in the tray of cookies. “Only if you promise me you won’t actually try any of the spells. I’m still not entirely sure your powers are gone and I don’t need to encounter any more demons.” 

“I hope I’m the exception to that,” Crowley interrupted as he and Aziraphale walked into the living room. 

“Mr. Crowley and Mr. Aziraphale are here!” Adam exclaimed, running up to them and giving them both hugs. “Er, Mr. Aziraphale, you have a few leaves in your hair.” 

Aziraphale blushed and pulled the offending foliage out of his hair and dusted off his cloak. Anathema gave them a look. 

“Kids, why don’t you go finish setting up the haunted house in the backyard, hm?” Anathema looked pointedly at Newt to go follow them to make sure nothing was set on fire. 

“Okay! See you guys later.” Adam and the rest of the Them bounded off toward the backyard, Newt trailing quickly behind them. 

“You guys are a bit late,” Anathema noted, looking them up and down. 

“Yes, traffic was-” 

“Terrible, terrible traffic, book girl.” 

Anathema narrowed her eyes suspiciously at them. 

“Sure, sure. Also, you missed a few buttons and your fly is down,” Anathema smirked at them and turned away. “I also have Halloween makeup to cover up that hickey, Crowley. Looks kinda fresh.” 

They both blushed furiously as Anathema dug around the makeup the Them had been using to get ready. 

“Now, quite blushing like two teenagers who got caught making out and come see the haunted house Adam designed, it’s actually pretty good,” Anathema handed the foundation off to Crowley and walked toward the back door. 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look before following her outside and spending the rest of the evening watching the Them scare the neighborhood kids - Aziraphale tutting and Crowley smiling approvingly. 

All said, it was a pretty good Halloween- er, All Hallows Eve. 


End file.
